never meant to start a war
by Jedi Buttercup
Summary: There aren't as many of us now as there were when Milady was Queen of Naboo, but our job remains much the same as it has since she first took public office: we handmaidens guard her body, aid her in her work, and keep her secrets for her. Even when those secrets make our jobs harder.


**Title**: never meant to start a war

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not.

**Summary**: _There aren't as many of us now as there were when Milady was Queen of Naboo, but our job remains much the same as it has since she first took public office: we handmaidens guard her body, aid her in her work, and keep her secrets for her. Even when those secrets make the rest of our jobs harder._ 2000 words.

**Spoilers**: Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith (2005)

**Notes**: For pronker, for Day 22 in Wishlist 2012, for the prompt of non-angsty Obidala dialogue fic in the ROTS era, from an NPC's point of view.

* * *

There aren't as many of us now as there were when Milady was Queen of Naboo, but our job remains much the same as it has since she first took public office: we handmaidens guard her body, aid her in her work, and keep her secrets for her. Even when those secrets make the rest of our jobs harder.

Honestly, I don't envy Sabé or Eirtaé one bit. It's challenging enough occasionally standing in as Milady's decoy in the Senate without also having to worry about balancing on the knife's edge of her publicly fond and privately scandalous behavior toward certain Jedi in the midst of multiple kidnappings and rescues. I can understand why she doesn't kick the younger one out of bed- with that height, and those muscles, and that masterful intensity!- but I never know what to _say_ to him. He's always so awkward when he realizes he's not actually dealing with Padmé. And as for the older Jedi-!

I look up from my datapad as the holocomm chimes, wondering whether there'll be yet another last-minute meeting about the next Senate vote to figure into the schedule, but I know even before the image resolves that it's a personal call by the way Milady's face lights up. Her cheeks dimple as she straightens in her chair: soft, incandescent, the look of the woman in love, not the courageous fighting spirit of the Senator. I look back down and turn away, fading politely into the background.

"Obi-Wan," she greets her caller, with just a hint of reproach curling around the edges of her fond tone. "I looked for you earlier; I was worried you'd been injured."

You'd never know, listening to the cultured warmth of the reply, that the man on the other end is a Jedi Master. He's so _serious_ every time we see him in public, and Force only knows I can hardly look him in the eye without wondering how Milady deals with the beard burn. But in private, he's unfailingly gentle, the soft cushion spread next to Knight Skywalker's fire; and I do have to admit- these private moments with her lovers are about the only time I've seen Milady smiling, the last few years.

"No; merely busy with other duties," he says. "Though I don't doubt Anakin has regaled you by now with the glorious tale of the Jedi Master carried around unconscious on his former Padawan's back; and dare I even ask if he's mentioned Cato Nemoidia? All's well that ends well, I suppose, but on balance, I rather thought he deserved the adulation of the politicians this time- coincidentally away from any temptation to mention that small matter to the media- while I spoke with the Council."

Milady laughs, a wry, amused sound. "He did say you owe him one."

"Who can keep track, these days?" he replies lightly. Then his tone grows more serious. "And- I also thought it might give you an opportunity to share your news with him in person. You seemed- reluctant to do so in a message, the last time we spoke."

Milady sighs at that; I glance up again at the sound of rustling, as she stands and paces toward the bank of windows facing toward the Temple. The cityscape of Coruscant spreads out below her under the afternoon sun, a blur of skyscraping buildings stitched together by autonavigation lanes filled with swift-moving traffic, marred here and there with still-smoking wreckage from the Separatists' daring attack. Milady had been out in it when the worst had hit, fleeing the Senate building in a speeder; it was only thanks to Senator Organa's piloting skill that she'd made it back to 500 Republica at all.

Skill- and luck, to rival her lovers'. At least if she'd chosen Jedi to love, she'd chosen Kenobi and Skywalker. If they were any less gifted, she wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place, because none of them would have survived the start of the Clone Wars, much less three years of it.

"Well, you weren't wrong about that," Milady says, reaching out to lay one hand on the transparisteel, the other curving protectively over her abdomen.

"And...?" Master Kenobi hints, his holo-image turning to track her movement.

The tableau holds for a moment; then Milady laughs again, ruefully, and turns away from the window. "He was surprised, of course. But happy for me, Obi-Wan. He told me it was wonderful, and that I shouldn't worry about anything."

Master Kenobi's shoulders slump visibly over the emitter; he looks so relieved I have to bite my lip to keep from reacting.

"Well. That's- wonderful, yes. And he didn't ask...?"

"About the father?" Milady finishes the sentence, smiling. "No. He just hugged me, and swung me around until I thought I'd be sick."

Milady never lies, exactly, but her answers depend so much on the listener's point of view. I'm not sure whether the Jedi or the other Senators have been a worse influence on her, in that regard.

"I wish I could be there to do the same," he replies, reaching out as though to stroke her cheek. "One day this war will be over. May it be sooner, rather than later; I grow wearier every day."

"_Would_ it be so bad, if Anakin knew?" she asks, a wistful note in her voice that I'd believe a lot more if I hadn't overheard her rehearsing several versions of this conversation before their shuttle landed. "Perhaps the three of us could..."

She trails off as he shakes his head regretfully. "No. Not yet. I know I'm not his Master anymore, but he has a difficult enough time following the Council's orders as it is- I don't want to be a disappointment to him, as well. Or a stumbling block. Not while events are so critical; the Order needs him too much."

"A disappointment?" She frowns at that, crossing her arms over her chest, and deliberately turns the conversation away from Jedi matters; they're at least in agreement about the fact that Knight Skywalker needs to remain a Jedi. "Why, Obi-Wan. Are you saying you're ashamed of me?"

His eyebrows lift in startled response. "Of _you_? Never, my dear," he recovers, a breath later. "You know very well you're the light of my existence, in these darkening days. But I fear he'd believe as I do, that I quite simply don't deserve so much of your consideration."

"All right; I forgive you, this time," she acknowledges, wryly. "Shall I come find you tomorrow then, in the gardens? Or... I've redecorated my offices, since the last time you were on Coruscant..."

Master Kenobi shifts, tucking his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe; it's impossible to tell whether he's blushing in the blue wash of the holocomm, but Milady's grin widens at the motion. "Ah- perhaps I'd better check Anakin's schedule first? He nearly caught us the last time; I'd no idea he had a meeting with the Chancellor that afternoon. As it is, he mocked his 'old absent-minded Master' about my rumpled robes for _days_; I had to tell him I'd let the laundry get out of hand, I'm afraid."

"Oh yes, I heard that story too," she chuckles.

As had I. Personally, I'd think someone should unwrap Master Kenobi more often- he's a lot more attractive without that serene Jedi mask of his- if only it were anyone but Padmé Amidala.

"Comm me in the morning before your meeting, then," she continues. "And may you dream of me in the meantime."

He smiles at her again, warm and worshipful. "There's no doubt of that. May the Force be with you, Padmé. I look forward to seeing you again in person."

"You too, Obi-Wan," she says, and presses her fingers to her mouth in a proxy kiss as his holo-image fades.

All is quiet in the office, for a long moment; then Milady turns to give me a wry look. "I can practically hear you disapproving from here, you know," she says. "But it's worked out, so far. It just has to work a little longer! If only this war would end; it would be so much easier if the Senate and the Council didn't keep sending them out so often. They were away for five months this time!"

She'd something very similar the last time they were on Coruscant; but she hadn't had a pregnancy to hide, then. "Surely they'll capture General Grievous before you have to return to Naboo," I demur.

"Surely they will," she repeats, rubbing her hands against her forearms in a self-comforting motion as she paces back over to the window. "You know, I honestly thought Ani would have said something about it by now; those HoloNet rumors about how close they are get more lurid every day, and he spends so much of his time with me either complaining about how Obi-Wan doesn't respect him as a grown man yet, or talking about how amazing he is. It reminds me of the way he talked to me, back on Naboo. And that's not even considering the things Obi-Wan says about _him_! I don't understand why he keeps talking about the dangers of attachment; he's more attached to Anakin than he is to me. If they'd just talk to _each other_ first, it would make broaching the subject so much easier."

My lip is getting sore from the repeated imprint of my teeth. Does she _really_ think her husband doesn't know Master Kenobi's been visiting her more than she's told him? I've seen the conflicted look on his face when she mentions his Master's name. And that Master Kenobi doesn't hear the way _she_ talks about Knight Skywalker? I think Milady's over-optimistic, believing they're destined to form a happy triad as soon as they no longer have the war and the Council's disapproval to worry about.

Even if she _is_ right, what if they don't figure it out before the birth? She hasn't told either of her lovers yet that it's twins- much less that their parentage isn't certain. Will she only let one father visit at a time, and dress the surplus infant as a cradle decoy? Or give them both to the crèche under separate false identities? Or choose only one father to name, and break it off with the other?

The possibilities are all painful. We could _all_ lose our jobs, not just Amidala, if she's wrong- if this all blows up into a scandal ugly enough for the Queen to hear about.

Milady curves one hand over her abdomen again, gaze drawn back to the streams of light outside the window. This is how she chooses to await her husband's arrival: with a smile still lingering at the corners of her mouth from her conversation with her other lover.

The turn her relationship had taken with Master Kenobi, after her terms as Queen were over, hadn't really surprised any of us who knew. She'd been in contact with him ever since the Second Battle of Theed, when they'd both been young and uncertain in their destinies. He may be Jedi, but he _is_ a human male, whatever his Order says about love. And though he can never offer her much of his time, he's attentive when he _can_ be. Knight Skywalker, however, has always been much more of a surprise. He blew into her life like a storm, and is still disordering all her plans, years later.

Perhaps it _shouldn't_ be so shocking that she wants to keep them both. Between the parts of themselves they are able to offer her, the two Jedi _might_ add up to one balanced partner for an intelligent woman.

It isn't really my place, as a handmaiden, to interfere. But they're _males_. She'll be waiting for them to speak until the children's fourth birthday, if she lets things go on this way.

"I'm sure they will, Milady," I say, and schedule myself an hour free on the morrow.

-x-


End file.
